


She Wears the Pants In This Relationship

by libruh



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Romance, Spideychelle, Summer Love, They love each other, a collection of one shots, hell yeah, i wrote this at 1 am, peter x michelle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 06:37:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11594988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libruh/pseuds/libruh
Summary: A collection of connected one-shots about Michelle Jones and Peter Parker.





	She Wears the Pants In This Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 1 am. I have not had sleep or coffee in the last 18 hours. All errors are mine. Hit me up if you feel like being a beta.
> 
> Also sorry if this ended up super crappy and not really fluffy and cute and good like I wanted. I'll get better eventually.
> 
> Also this fandom is so small. Let's try and spread the love by writing more fanfiction.

_This is Michelle. Don’t leave a message._

_BEEP_

He always knew that dating MJ would put her at risk (he is Spider-Man, after all). He just never knew _how much_ of a risk until he realized he hadn’t heard from his girlfriend all day.

No, Peter and MJ aren’t the type of couple to be constantly in contact with each other, but they do make a point to at least text each other once a day. Michelle is perfectly fine with Peter’s superheroing occupying most of the summer, but he wants to spend as much time with her as possible before senior year starts up again.

So when it turns 7 PM and Peter still hasn’t gotten a response from her, he begins to worry.

“What if she’s gotten kidnapped?” Peter says, mostly to himself but also to Karen. The sun has just dropped below the Queens skyline and the growing darkness makes the panic rising in him triple its speed. “Or she got mugged in an alley somewhere and is waiting for me to find her?”

“The chances of either of those scenarios happening is slim,” Karen reassures him. “If anything were to happen to Michelle, it would have appeared on my crime scanner.”

This does not smooth out the crease between Peter’s eyebrows and he determines that looking for her is the only way to ease his troubled thoughts.

He starts at his apartment, because “ _hey, what if she decided to stop by without telling me?”_

But the apartment is empty, save for a Tupperware container of leftover lasagna and a sticky-note with a smiley face and his name on it. Peter silently thanks his Aunt for the food and takes it with him to his next location.

The park that Michelle frequents in her free time is also free of people. The swings, rusted over and creaking as they sway in the wind, give no sign of Michelle and he almost moves on when an elderly Chinese woman approaches him, an empty leash gripped in one hand and a plastic doggie bag in the other.

“His name is Muffins,” she explains, her voice heavily accented. “He’s very furry, about two feet long, and has pointy ears.”

Her description of Muffins is next to useless, but Peter gets lucky when he spots a brown terrier lung at a stray squirrel just around the corner. “Bless you,” the lady says as he hands over the yapping dog. “My husband was wrong about you costume wearing vigilantes.”

Peter is finishing up with the lasagna when two kids, maybe around the age of ten, enter the park. They gawk at him for a moment and Peter considers shooting a web onto the top of a building and making a smooth exit when it dawns on him that they might know where MJ is.

“Hey there,” he says, dropping his voice an octave. “Do you guys happen to know a Michelle Jones?”

The kid with a red beanie and a basketball recovers quickly from his shock. “Depends,” he says, passing the ball between his hands. “Can you do a backflip?”

“Oh my god, Lars,” the girl says. “Don’t be rude!”

Peter resists the urge to roll his eyes. _What is with people and asking him to do flips?_

“I can,” he says. “If I do one, will you tell me where Michelle is?”

Both kids nod and Peter sighs in exasperation before climbing on top on the swing set and laughing backwards off it, landing in a crouched position.

The kids _ooh_ and _ahh_ at him for a minute, their eyes the size of saucers. Finally, the girl speaks up. “Michelle lives in that brown building over there,” she says, pointing to one of the townhouses.

In their ten months of dating, Peter has actually never been to Michelle’s house. She always has a good reason prepared as to why he can’t come over when he asks, and Peter is too in love with her to argue. When it was evident that their relationship was serious, he met MJ’s parents at his favorite Thai place and every meeting after that had been at a restaurant.

Peter thanks the kids and webs away, practicing all the things he wants to say to her in his mind.

_“I thought you were in danger!”_

_“MJ, you better have a damn good excuse as to why you haven’t answered me.”_

_“Did you suddenly forget how to turn on your phone?”_

But when he arrives at what he assumes is Michelle’s window (the Ray Bradbury poster taped to it gives it away) and slides open the glass pane, her room is frustratingly void of his girlfriend. Peter strays a moment longer in the window, however, because his curiosity as to how it looks overpowers him.

Every available surface is covered in books, which doesn’t surprise him. The walls are plastered with artwork from her favorite books and stray sketchbooks litter the floor. And taped to the wall just above her bed are photos.

There are some of Michelle at protests and some of the decathlon team. A few are of her family, but most of them are of _him._ Peter eating in the booth opposite her at their favorite diner, Peter painting her nails on the top bunk of his bed, and more. He’s amazed that he’s never noticed Michelle taking the photos of him, and he feels his cheeks warm at the thought of his detached, hipster girlfriend taking pictures of him.

By the time Peter is swinging away from Michelle’s house, it’s nearly 9 PM and his heart is beating out of his chest. He checks a few more places (Ned’s house, her favorite cafe/bookstore, the fucking Laundromat) before he’s hit with how stupid he’s being. He’s managed to overlook the one place that he can always count MJ to be at; the library.

He lowers himself until he’s positioned right in front of MJ’s usual table in the library. The rest of the building is practically deserted except for the ancient librarian and Peter figures she won’t notice if he makes his entrance through the window.

MJ is slumped over a thick book, her head cushioned on her folded hands. Her hair is a rat’s nest and she’s probably in her pajamas from last night, but Peter thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his lifetime.

He nudges her elbow and she immediately shoots up, her eyes alert.

“Pe - Spider-Man!” she exclaims, brushing a stray curl out of her face. “What are you doing here?”

All of Peter’s previously rehearsed words evaporate from his mind and instead of them, he says “I was so worried about you.”

Her brow furrows and she yawns, stretching her arms over her head. “What time is it?” she asks.

“Almost 9:30,” Peter says, running a hand over his masked face. He’s so relieved. “Why haven’t you answered any of my texts or calls?”

MJ frowns and pulls her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket. “I put it on silent when I came in this morning.”

“So you’ve been here all day?” Peter nearly shouts. “I’ve been all over Queens looking for you!”

MJ offers him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry,” she says sincerely. “I was trying to get through most of my summer reading list in one day.”

Peter shakes his head and lets it drop behind him as he stares up at the florescent lights.

_Only his girlfriend would neglect technology for Simone de Beauvoir._


End file.
